Left 2 Gether: Life Anew
by Lochellen C
Summary: Reeling from the loss of her best friend and lover, Dee must now find her way to a new safe place. But with a very unstable Man on her trail and a baby on the way, freedom seems to be out of reach.
1. Scattered

Chapter 1

Dee slid the lockbar in place as quietly as she could. Panting, she hugged her swollen stomach and slid to the floor. Her feet ached. Her back ached. Her head ached. Worse than anything, her eyes burned so badly she thought they might start bleeding. It felt as though she had been crying for days. She probably had. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist and tried to pull herself together.

The safehouse outside of the city was absolutely barren. No medical supplies, no food, no water; there was nothing for her to work with. After fighting to get back onto her feet, she searched through the boxes and containers that lined one of the walls. Most were empty, but she was able to find a large t-shirt and oversized jacket. She sighed in relief and, with some difficulty, peeled her uncomfortably tight shirt off of herself. The thing had been stretched beyond capacity as whatever unholy creature it was grew larger inside of her.

She pulled on the shirt and jacket. At least she could stay warm and reasonably safe for the night. She would have to keep moving as soon as she could, but for now she was past exhausted. Carefully, she slid back down to the floor and tried to get comfortable. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find a good sleeping position. She expelled a sigh that was dangerously close to a sob.

Todd. That idiot. That brave, protective, loving... idiot! What was he thinking? He knew it was stupid to go up against the Man and his expanding army of Infected. Now he left her completely alone with the monster she would inevitably give birth to. Just when she thought maybe she'd be able to get him -the real Todd that she had grown up with- back, he goes and does this. She slammed a fist against the floor and wiped her eyes again.

There were no words that could accurately encompass the rage and despair and whatever else was swirling in her head. So she settled for, "Dammit."

* * *

Oscar crouched and watched. Emmy's little hands worked with uncanny skill and grace as she tied the trip wire. He glanced at the diagrams in the tattered book that lay before him. It looked like she had managed to do it right. They would just have to wait and see. The girl stood up and smiled at him, her little mouth marred on the left side by a collection of small scars. She maneuvered almost silently through the layer of dead leaves and undergrowth. Oscar fought a frown.

All of this skill and potential was spent strictly on survival. She was five and a half and could already hide better than a chameleon, tie knots on par with a sailor, and, as long as the words were small, write. Emmy stretched out her arms to him and he picked her up.

"Did I do it?" she whispered.

Her voice was soft and quiet from years of having to stay concealed. He smiled and nodded at her. He tapped the side of his head with a finger and winked. She giggled at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Suddenly, she stiffened in his arms and looked around.

"Hunter somewhere," she mumbled, her eyes now scanning the trees.

Oscar put her down and she made for the nearest cover, as he had taught her to do. This time the nearest cover happened to be a large bush. As soon as she entered it, a rabbit burst out of it. The rabbit hit the trip wire full force and the noose yanked it into the air. Emmy's trap was certainly efficient. But just as suddenly as the rabbit had been caught, it was cut down with a shriek.

The Hunter ripped the little creature out of the noose and wasted no time in tearing it to bloody shreds with its teeth. Oscar carefully placed himself between the bush and the Hunter. It didn't appear to be one of the Smart Infected, judging by the haphazard violence it used to destroy the rabbit. That was alright. It wouldn't be as much of a threat that way. He made a small gurgling noise at Emmy, giving her the signal to close her eyes.

"Uh huh," she replied quietly from her hiding spot.

The Hunter didn't hear. It was too absorbed in disemboweling the rabbit. Without hesitation, Oscar shot out his tongue and snapped the Hunter's neck. It fell limply on top of the ruined rabbit. Emmy whimpered from her hiding place. That noise always made Oscar's blood run cold. He tore the tongue from his mouth and went to her.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" he asked, holding out his arms.

Emmy crawled out of the bush, her large eyes wet with tears. He held her as his heart sunk. She must have seen what he'd done.

"Did you close your eyes like I asked?"

"Yes," she sniffed.

"Then what's wrong?"

"He took my rabbit! That wasn't his rabbit and he took it," she told him crossly, her whimpering strengthening into a full on tantrum.

She chose this out of all the things to be upset about. Oscar's mouth quirked as he tried not to smile, "You're right. It wasn't his to take. But do you remember what I told you about Hunters like him?"

Emmy pouted, her lower lip quivering, "That they don't know any better."

"That's right. They're like animals. They don't know what is right and what is wrong, so we can't be angry at them. We can protect ourselves when we have to, but getting mad won't do any good."

"B-but, that was _my_ rabbit."

"I know, Emmy. We'll find you another one. Besides, it will be good practice if you make another trap. That first one you did was-"

His tongue burst out of his mouth and he sighed. Emmy's pout softened a little and Oscar smirked. She so badly wanted to stay angry. He poked at her tummy playfully and she swatted him away with a giggle. Oscar picked up the tattered trapping book with his tongue and lifted Emmy onto his shoulders. He hummed to Emmy and she sang.

The ABC's song receded into the trees as they searched for another rabbit.

* * *

Sage watched from her perch. The stream below slipped smoothly around the rocks. If she wasn't in such a hurry, she'd happily have spent hours enjoying it. However, there were things to attend to. She waited, her muscles tense and ready. The trio of deer she had been observing were heading in this direction. With any luck, she'd be able to catch them drinking from the stream. She rolled her shoulders and smiled when she heard the movement.

Below, two does and a buck paused to take a drink, just as she had hoped. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and gripped the branch she sat on. The part of her that she kept locked away, she internally named it the Fire, was begging to be set loose. She took another deep breath. _You have ten seconds,_ she told it. It growled in acceptance.

She opened her eyes to the stream again. It looked as though it flowed with blood rather than water. Sage shrieked and launched herself at the nearest doe. Its neck was open before it knew what hit it.

* * *

The Man had not left the ICU waiting room since Dee's escape. He sipped at a bottle of water one of his Witches had scrounged from the hospital cafeteria. His overlong fingers tapped on the arm of his chair. The rage within him was swelling, almost past his ability to contain it, and it was treading the line of scaring him. He took another sip of water.

A Witch poked her head through the doorjamb and tapped it with a claw.

The Man lifted his hooded head, "Yes?"

"Shhh... She not here. Not in city," struggled the Witch.

"No, of course she wouldn't be," he grumbled, waving the Witch into the room.

She slunk toward him, red eyes flashing anxiously. He put out a hand and stroked her hair.

"And where are my Hunters?"

"Looking."

"Very good," he sighed, pulling two sugar cubes from his pocket and holding them out to her, "and the Hunter? Todd?"

"Burned him. He ash," she said quickly, taking a sugar cube between her claws and putting it into her mouth.

"But you kept his clothes, as I asked?"

The Witch nodded, taking the next sugar cube and moving it about her mouth with her tongue.

"Did you answer me? Use words," he commanded, his voice suddenly harsh.

"I... Yes. Keep clothes," she stammered, pulling away from the Man.

"Good girl. You may go."

The Witch ran from the room. She didn't dare wail. She could sense what was going on inside of him. The Man held out one of his hands. To his dismay, he was shaking. He took an unsteady drink of water and capped the bottle.

"Tell my Hunters to work harder!" he called to the Witch, "If anything happens to her baby I will kill every last one of them!"

He sank back into his chair and closed his eyes. The water bottle exploded in his fist.

* * *

AN: Okay, so maybe I couldn't stay away from this story as long as I had planned. I cannot guarantee how quickly this will be updated, since I'm working on a few other things at the same time, but I'll do my best! Cheers.


	2. Vulnerable

Chapter 2

Sage cleaned her claws in the stream while blood drained from the deer carcass. Her calm demeanor on the outside was deceptive. Inside, the Fire strained to get free again while her mind raced in millions of different directions. She didn't have time to butcher the deer, but she couldn't drag the entire thing all the way to her den on her own. The Stray back at the den was weak and beaten beyond recognition, and she had very few supplies to heal him. She would have to go on a run for bandages, which meant venturing into the city. Worse, the Man's lap dogs were sticking their noses into her territory. She would need to move house soon.

She drug her wet claws through her tangled mass of short mousy hair and gave a small growl. She would just have to butcher the deer quickly and be on her way. She turned her attention back to the deer and pulled a knife from her boot. There was no point in ruining such nice meat with her claws. She set to work skinning her catch. She would take only what she needed and leave the rest for whatever animals were left in the dying woods. They needed all the help they could get.

Sage used the skin as a makeshift knapsack to pack the butchered meat into. The den wasn't terribly far away, but the extra twenty pounds of meat was going to slow her a little. She kicked off of the ground and snagged a low branch so she could scan her surroundings. At first, it seemed that she was alone, but some very subtle movement drew her eye to the west of her. Smokers. Five of them moving methodically in the underbrush. Combing for something, she guessed. She hissed in frustration and jetted off as best she could through the trees. The Man was either looking for her or the Stray, and she wasn't going to wait around to find out which.

She followed the stream until a large boulder loomed before her, then she turned southeast and continued moving. The den was dug into the side of a hill and blocked by three trees. It was difficult to see unless you knew what you were looking for; but the Smokers would be thorough. Sage tossed the skin knapsack into the den and quickly examined the Stray.

He was not looking any better than when she left. What wasn't covered in a thick layer of dried blood was dark purple and swollen. What broken bones Sage could see were set and splinted with sticks and reeds. The Stray looked like a macabre result of an arts and crafts class. She sighed and pulled him into an awkward fireman's carry. She would have to pick up the meat later, once she had found somewhere safe. Straining, she snuck from the den and headed downstream away from the Smokers.

* * *

Oscar ripped out his tongue and barricaded the old shed door behind them when they returned home. Emmy scurried to her ramshackle collection of blankets, rags, and clothes that served as a bed, and began picking out the very nicest pieces to make bedding for her future rabbit. He immediately had misgivings.

"Listen, Em, I know you're excited about having a pet, but I need you to understand something, okay?"

Emmy looked up from her work, "What?"

"You know how dangerous it is for us outside. If you find a rabbit, you need to understand that it could easily run away and get eaten. You can love the rabbit, but be ready in case something happens to it."

Emmy fixed Oscar with a very sober look, "I will keep it safe. Nothing will happen to it."

Oscar nodded, but sighed internally. This idea was only going to end in heartbreak. Why had he even agreed to such a thing? And why did Emmy have to choose something so helpless as a rabbit to be her pet? Oscar pulled a piece of jerky from one of the battered med kits that used to belong to Dee. He handed it to Emmy. She immediately abandoned making the bed and took it from him.

Oscar lifted an eyebrow and gave her a look. Emmy returned a playful scowl that contrasted sharply against her soft little voice, "Thanks."

"That's better. You're wel-"

Oscar's tongue regenerated and Emmy gave a muffled laugh around a mouthful of jerky. Oscar scrunched up his nose in a way that meant _Yeah, really funny._ Emmy smiled and took another bite of jerky before tugging on Oscar's shirt.

"Come down here," she ordered.

Oscar obliged and sat cross legged on the dusty floor. Emmy climbed into his lap and played with the fraying edges of a hole in the knee of his jeans. She was quiet for a few moments.

"I want to name my bunny Jo. Kinda like Mommy's name," she said finally.

Oscar stiffened. He had told Emmy about her parents once a couple years prior out of a sense of duty and hoped that time would be enough to erase it from her memory. Apparently she wasn't one to forget so easily. Happily, there didn't seem to be a need to respond as she was soon chatting nonstop about all the things she would do with her rabbit.

"I'll give it carrots and pet it and sleep with it at night... can we give Jo a dolly? Jo needs a dolly. A little one. Okay, big brother?"

Oscar rubbed her back and shrugged. He wasn't sure where on earth he could find a rabbit-sized dolly. Hoping to distract from this particular train of thought, he used his tongue to dig Emmy's favorite book out of their haphazard pile of belongings. She squealed happily and made a grab for the book, which Oscar held just out of reach.

"Gimme! Gimme!" she chanted, jumping up and down trying to pull the book away.

It wasn't long before Oscar relented. Emmy climbed back into his lap and opened the book. It was partially burned and missing a couple of pages, but she adored the story. She settled back against Oscars chest and began to half-read half-recite the words on the page.

"Once upon a time, there was a little egg sitting all by itself in a nest by a pond. The egg began to shake. Peck. Peck. Peck. Crack. Crack. Crack. And soon, a little bird came out of the egg!"

She paused to turn the page.

"The little bird looked down at herself. She didn't know what kind of bird she was. So, she took a look around. She saw a momma duck with her ducklings swimming in the pond. The little bird said to herself, 'Maybe I'm a duck,' and went to follow them."

Oscar smiled when she poked a finger at the page, petting the baby swan in the illustrations. She turned to grin at Oscar.

"She's not a duck. She's a pretty swan."

He nodded and ruffled her hair with a smile. She giggled and returned to her story. Oscar stifled a yawn and looked of out the broken window panes at the dwindling light. There was movement nearby. He held Emmy closer and shifted to get a better look.

* * *

Dee woke to a slamming that shook the whole safe house. The bull-like roar from outside told her it was a Tank. She scrambled for something, anything that she could use as a weapon. She pried a piece of loose wood from the door, but threw it aside. What was a two by four going to do to a Tank?

She staggered as the beast threw itself against the door. Frustrated and at a loss, she slammed her hand against the door.

"Hey! Cut it out!" she snarled without thinking.

Suddenly, the Tank's onslaught ceased. Its comparatively small face peered through the safehouse bars with something that might have been concern. Dee backed away from the door when it pushed its thick fingers between the bars. It gave a short guttural noise that may have been a word, but she couldn't be sure.

"Go away," she shouted, hoping that maybe the words would register.

The Tank settled in front of the door and watched her.

"Uh uh," it growled.

Dee felt her eyebrows shoot up, "What?"

"Uh uh," the Tank repeated, sounding a little irritated.

"Why not?"

The Tank stuck a finger through the bars again, pointing at her.

"Bay-bee," it uttered, dragging out the syllables experimentally.

Dee's heart clenched. He belonged to the Man, she was certain. Had she really been so easy to track that a _Tank_ could find her? She rubbed her face and searched for her next move. She couldn't overpower the brute that sat outside, and in her state she certainly couldn't outrun him, but she could probably outsmart him. She held up her hands.

"Okay, I'm going to open the door. Just be very gentle. If you hurt me, you hurt the baby, and I know you don't want that. The Man would be upset."

"Man upset," repeated the Tank, his face falling at the prospect.

Dee put her hands on the lockbar and pulled it loose.

"Now, move away so I can open the door."

The Tank fumbled his way backward and crashed into a bush. He turned to see what he ran into. Dee couldn't believe her luck. Without hesitation, she swung the lockbar back and cracked the lockbar across the back of the Tank's skull. He slumped forward, unconscious. Despite herself, Dee felt a little guilty. The oaf was dangerous, certainly, but he seemed almost innocent. She shook her head and gathered her wits. If there was anything she should have learned by now, it was that kindness to the Infected often ended in heartbreak.

She left as quickly as she could waddle. The next safe house was several miles away and it was still dark out. She was a sitting duck. A big, swollen, sitting duck.

* * *

The Man's usually unflappable heart was going a mile a minute as he looked around at the carnage. Dee's overturned empty bed sat amid four dead Hunters, one ruined Tank, and two disemboweled Smokers. One Witch, one of his favorites, bled on his shoes from the gash that stretched from ear to ear. He could hear nothing but the roar of his blood in his ears.

"Where is he?" he hissed, not turning from his view of destruction.

"Dead, outside," croaked one of his Hunters from somewhere behind him.

The Man whirled on his Hunter and grabbed him by the throat, and strove to keep his voice steady, "You allowed him to make it as far as the parking lot?"

The Hunter scrambled fruitlessly to get loose, "He is strong. Angry."

The Man clenched his fingers around the Hunter's neck and tried to push away the ring of red that had begun to creep into the corners of his vision. Both his prize and his future had vanished in a matter of moments. He was reeling.

The growl in his voice threatened to dissolve into meaningless snarls, but he barely managed to remain articulate, "You mean to tell me that one Hunter, just one, could tear apart our defenses because he was angry? Perhaps it is time that all of you see what true anger can do. Would you like that, my friend?"

The Hunter, barely clinging to consciousness, weakly shook his head. The Man tossed the underling aside and squeezed his eyes shut. He took deep breaths through his nose and released them slowly through his mouth. The rage slowly -very slowly- began to quell. He opened his eyes once more.

"Listen carefully," he sighed, addressing at the Infected that had assembled, "I want Dee's Hunter burned. However, you must _not_ burn his clothes. I have use for them. Clean this room as well. I want it spotless for Dee's return. Am I understood?"

The Infected gibbered and growled their assent before dispersing to do his bidding. The Man swept out of the room, doing his best to blink the red from his vision. This woman would be the death of him.

Groaning, the Man rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. A dream. The same as the night before. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. Day and night he could think of nothing else. He stood and went to the window. Dawn was approaching on the horizon, but the majority of the city outside was dark.

He pulled his hood down for the first time in ages and allowed himself to examine his reflection in the window. He stared down the dully glowing red eyes that looked back at him. He was paler than he remembered, but his gaunt and hollowed face was much the same. He pulled the cord that held his white hair back and it fell limply over his shoulders. He turned away from the window.

This was no time to feel vulnerable. He consciously squared his shoulders. Where did this self-pity stem from? He was the proverbial top of the food chain. He was an evolutionary marvel. He was the peak predatory perfection. He was what the human race should be striving to become. And yet, he felt repulsive.

Claws clicked on the linoleum at the ICU waiting room door. He spun to face whoever it was. A Witch watched him, mouth slightly open and glowing eyes wide. He felt heat rise in his face and hastily pulled the hood back over his head.

"Leave me," he snarled.

She skittered down the hall without a sound.


	3. Tenuous

Chapter 3

"Take a deep breath and try to relax. This will pinch a little bit."

Dee's eyes slid over to glare at the Man. Her ankles and wrists were bound to the bed with restraints. Her head was also strapped down to the bed, a new development since the last time the Man had attempted the procedure. She strained against it experimentally and the Man pressed a finger to her forehead to push her back down.

"I had warned you not to try anything stupid last time. You see, I do not tolerate head butting or biting. I had a whole table of surgical tools right beside you. You could have injured yourself."

"Keep away from me," she hissed.

The Man studied the syringe in his hand and squeezed out the excess air with the plunger.

"Be a good girl and take a deep breath as I have asked you. I don't want to tear a vein if you decide to move around."

Dee wrenched against the restraints, but they would not give at all. The Man took a step back and watched from his hood impatiently. Dee snarled in frustration.

"You know, this attitude is precisely why you won't conceive. If you would simply relax I would not have to try the same procedure over and over. In vitro isn't a simple operation, you know."

Dee yanked at her bonds with renewed fervor, "I will _not_ carry your baby!"

The Man tilted his head ever so slightly and chuckled. He stepped closer to the bed and slammed one of Dee's straining wrists against the table. In one swift motion, he inserted the needle and pressed down the plunger of the syringe. Ice wound through Dee's veins. The Man produced a mask from somewhere beyond Dee's view and pressed it over her mouth and nose. A faint sickly sweet odor filled her nostrils and her eyelids slowly became heavy.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you don't have a choice in the matter," were the last words she heard before the anesthesia overwhelmed her senses.

* * *

Dee jumped and quickly looked around. How long had she been asleep? She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Judging by the sun, it was mid morning. She groaned as she tried to pull herself up from the barely-human-sized gap between the ground and a large exposed tree root that had served as her shelter for what little had been left of the night before. She took a few moments to collect herself before striking off in the direction of the next safe house.

She hadn't gone far when she began to feel as though she were being watched. A twig snapped from somewhere behind her. She turned and her hands instinctively balled into fists. The Tank from earlier was doing his best to hide behind a tree. It was almost comical, if it weren't for the fact that he could easily crush her head like a dirt clod if he wanted to. Strangely, he seemed vaguely confused as opposed to the typical enraged-Tank default.

"What are you doing?" Dee grumbled, searching for some kind of weapon.

The Tank pointed a finger at her and mumbled, "Get bay-bee."

Dee turned and continued walking, "You're not getting anything. Tell your Man to shove it."

The Tank lumbered from its hiding spot and followed Dee like an overlarge and somewhat scary puppy. Her mind raced. She would have to trick the Tank again somehow. He poked her shoulder, causing her to stumble forward.

"Hey!"

The Tank was bewildered at her reaction and took a few steps back, "You say shove."

"That's not... I didn't mean to shove _me_. Go back to where you came from and tell the Man that I'm not coming back."

The Tank circled around to block her path and sat down, "You come back. Man not get mad with Phil."

"Phil?" Dee raised an eyebrow and walked around him, still heading toward the new safe house.

The Tank reached out and wrapped his thick fingers around her arm. With his other hand, he tapped his chest, "Me Phil. Not want Man mad at Phil."

Dee stopped and watched the Tank. Part of her felt sorry for the beast. He carefully opened his large hand and released Dee's arm. She looked up at his face. He had thick features and a square jaw, but there was youth in his face. The tattered remains of what may have been a football jersey hung limply around his barely existent neck. The Green Flu must have hit while he was in high school.

"How old are you, Phil?"

Phil reached to scratch his head, but his massive biceps hampered his attempt to reach it. He sighed and drummed his fingers on the ground instead. Finally, he held up five dirty fingers in front of Dee's face.

"This," he grumbled.

Dee blinked. There was no way the Tank was anywhere near five years old.

"You're five?" she asked.

Phil shook his head as best as he could and pushed the hand toward her face a couple more times.

"Fifteen?"

"Fiiiif-fif-teen," he repeated, brows knitted in concentration.

Dee rubbed her face and considered the Tank before her. He was young, gullible, and obviously quite strong. She hated to think of what he was capable of given his loyalty to the Man. She rested her arms on her swollen stomach. Whatever was inside of her kicked violently. She pulled her arms back and sighed.

"Listen, Phil, before we go back to the Man, I have some things to do. Why don't you come with me and help me? We can go to see the Man after that."

Phil relaxed back on his heels and studied Dee, mulling over her offer. He finally held out a hand to her.

"I help. Then see Man."

Dee tried to shake his hand, but was only able to grasp his index finger. He gave a satisfied grunt and bared his teeth in what might have been a smile.

* * *

Oscar finally felt it was safe to shut his eyes. Something had been patrolling around outside for the majority of the night, and it's calculated movements made Oscar uneasy. He suspected Smart Infected but there was no way to be sure without going outside to investigate. Instead, he kept watch through the night as Emmy slept. The noises had stopped at least a couple of hours before. Chances were whatever it was had moved on. He fell asleep to the sound of Emmy's soft snores.

* * *

Sage was weary. She watched the little shack from the branches of a tree. It was the only decent shelter she could see nearby and it was already occupied. There were no extra doors or other means of getting inside unnoticed; the place was simply too small. She had considered killing the Smoker and letting the girl stay with her and the Stray, but there was something odd about their relationship. The Smoker appeared to be protecting the girl, and for whatever reason Sage felt it would be wrong to break up the pair. No, there had to be another means of securing the shack.

The Stray was fading fast, and leaving him in the elements was only speeding up the process. Even now she wasn't sure if he was still alive. She had checked on him in his new hiding spot periodically during the night, but his pulse was growing weaker by the hour. He needed somewhere warm and dry and the shack was really his only chance, but what could she do? Knock on the door and hope they believed her story? She was a Hunter. A predator. Nobody would trust her now, of that she was sure.

She was about to return to the Stray again when she saw a handful of tall shapes coming through the trees. The Smokers from before must have brought reinforcements. She rubbed her face tiredly and dropped from the tree. It would be easier just to kill them now than defend the Stray later. She would need precision this time. She couldn't risk killing the wrong Smoker if the one from the shack decided to join the fight. She took a deep breath to keep the Fire locked away. With a roll of her shoulders and some flexing to loosen her claws, she was ready.

* * *

He tried to open his eyes but couldn't. They felt heavy. Probably swollen shut. He attempted to lift a hand to touch his eyelids, but that was also impossible. The pain was too much. Everything hurt. His arms, his legs, his chest, his head... it felt like every part of him was broken. Maybe they were. He groaned and was surprised at the weakness of his voice. It was little more than a wheeze. What had happened to him?

Though he couldn't see, he could feel dirt beneath him. He was laying on the ground somewhere. Somewhere very dark, he guessed. There was almost no light beyond his eyelids. He jerked when something scuttled across his arm. Whatever it was felt damp and had too many legs. He clenched his teeth at the pain that flared through his body and hoped that whatever the damp leggy thing was wouldn't crawl over his face. If this place wasn't hell, it certainly felt like it.

When it seemed the mystery insect had gone, he opened his mouth.

"S-some..." what was the word? He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't think of how to say it. He had been working on that for a long time now, but it never seemed to get any better. He tried an easier approach.

"Hello?" he wheezed.

No answer.

"Hello?" he tried again, straining to call louder.

Still nothing. He wasn't surprised. Wherever he was felt empty. He heard nothing and sensed no one. A cold fear writhed in his stomach. Maybe he actually _was_ in hell.


End file.
